


Another Look

by ibohemianam



Series: Chaconne [8]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Family, Fluff, Rebelcaptain - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibohemianam/pseuds/ibohemianam
Summary: It is 20 ABY, everyone is getting old, and Jyn and Cassian still aren't married.The Latest:The wedding has an unexpected guest.





	1. Middle Age

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened.  
> It started out as a chapter for [_Shore Leave_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10261250/chapters/22734482), but then Leia appeared, Chapter 2 mutated, and I thought it’d be better off on its own. If _Shore Leave_ itself was a series, this would be one of its stories, but it's fully capable of standing on its own within _Chaconne_.

“You’re getting old,” Jyn said, sprawled across the worn couch in his office.

“Thank you,” Cassian replied absently, peering from datapad to datapad, frowning ferociously.

Jyn rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin on one couch arm, staring him down.

“I mean it,” she said.

Cassian glanced up at her briefly.

“And this is news--how?” he asked absently.

“I think you need reading glasses,” Jyn said.

Cassian’s frown intensified, deepening the lines around his mouth.

“No, I don’t,” he snapped.

Jyn pulled herself gracefully to her feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides. She looked over his shoulder at the datapads arrayed on his desk.

“Yes, you do,” she said with immense satisfaction, “You had to write a new script just to make the font bigger on these. Don’t deny it--” she poked a finger at his rigid, indignant shoulder, “or I’ll have you try and read these on mine.”

Cassian glared up at her.

“I don’t need glasses,” he said grumpily, turning back to his work, “I’m translating. Or trying to. It’s been a long time, and someone keeps interrupting me.”

“I think they’d look good on you,” Jyn said, willfully ignoring him. She perched impudently on the edge of his desk, nudging his datapads aside.

Cassian sighed.

“Why are you doing this?” he grumbled sourly, squinting up at her.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Jyn said.

Cassian grunted and gave up on his translations, leaning back in his chair, fingers linked behind his head.

“I’m forty-six standard,” he said stubbornly, “I’m not even eligible for retirement for another four years.”

“What does retiring have to do with anything?” Jyn made a face, “You can still shoot fine--not like you’ve had to, except to show off in front of all the recruits. You’re not senile yet, at least I don’t think--” Cassian sighed again. Jyn grinned. “--and you’re not like Kes--if you retire, you’ll drive both of us crazy. You just need glasses so you can read your farking mission reports and do your farking translations without getting a headache and biting someone’s head off.”

“No one wears glasses,” Cassian muttered, “Not even General Dodonna. And he’s _really_ old.”

Jyn laughed in his face.

“You’re such a vain old man,” she said, sliding off the desk and leaning in close, hands gripping either chair arm.

“I’m not,” Cassian returned, struggling to keep a straight face.

Jyn leaned closer, closer, closer until their noses were nearly touching.

“I don’t need glasses,” Cassian repeated, “I can see you just fine.”

Jyn kissed him then, just out of spite.

* * *

“You know,” Harter Kalonia said, settling on her rolling stool before him, “There are procedures we can do. Myopia is quite correctable these days. It has been, for some time.”

“Procedures?” Cassian echoed blankly.

“Laser surgery,” Kalonia clarified, one corner of her severe mouth twitching suspiciously.

“Laser surgery,” Cassian said, hands gripping the edge of the examination bed.

“Yes,” Kalonia replied.

“Is that…” Cassian muttered, blanching, “strictly necessary?”

“No,” Kalonia said, pulling up his chart on her datapad again and scrolling through, “Your current difficulties are expected of a man your age. It’ll be a few more years yet before your vision deteriorates enough to make it, as you say, ‘strictly necessary.’”

Cassian felt distinctly caught in the speeder lights of fast-approaching middle age.

Kalonia cracked half a smile.

“Jyn said something about glasses?” Cassian fumbled out.

Kalonia raised an eyebrow. The other half of her smile struggled to break through.

“This is the New Republic, Cassian,” she said, “In case you haven’t noticed. Not the Old Republic.”

“But would they help me, ah--” he brought a hand to his beard, coloring slightly, “--see better? Without the… procedures?”

“Are you really that afraid of--”

Cassian glared at her.

Kalonia laughed in his face.

That was becoming a recurring theme, he thought sourly.

“Yes, glasses will help,” Kalonia said, still smiling. It was an odd sight, and not one he’d like to witness again. “I can take some measurements for the lenses, and we can get you fitted for frames a bit later.”

She stood. Cassian slid off the examination bed, amusingly discomfited.

He scowled at her palpable amusement.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“No,” Kalonia replied, smile broadening, “Thank _you_.”

* * *

“I am perfectly capable of picking out my own frames, thank you,” Cassian muttered, hurrying out his office door.

“I’m on break,” Jyn said, keeping pace with him.

Cassian shot her a look.

“Lunch break,” Jyn clarified.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Cassian said.

Jyn grinned wolfishly.

“Late lunch,” she said.

Cassian sighed, irritably tugging the collar of his jacket right-side out. They strode together down to the lower levels of the palace, side-by-side, hands not quite brushing. Jyn smiled up at him. Cassian sighed again, mouth twitching.

“It’s going to be your turn soon,” he said under his breath, “All this getting old stuff.”

Jyn shrugged.

“I’ll age gracefully,” she said drily, “Unlike you.”

Cassian snorted.

“Thanks.”

They paused before the doors to Kalonia’s offices, and Cassian raised a hand to the chime, waiting a moment before the doors opened, allowing them through.

“Cassian,” Kalonia said, smiling slightly from behind the massive bulk of her desk, “And Jyn. What a surprise. Please, sit.”

Jyn grinned again.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the galaxy,” she said, dropping into one of the two chairs.

Cassian sat gingerly beside her, eyeing the small, plastene boxes neatly arrayed before him.

“We haven’t had an order for actual, physical glasses in the history of the New Republic,” Kalonia said, “So yours will be custom-made based on which model you like.”

Cassian jerked his head up to look at her, scandalized.

“Custom-made?” he repeated.

“Shut up and look,” Jyn said, scooting her chair closer and gleefully pulling the lids off the boxes, piling them off to the side. “Oh.” She pulled out a large, golden pair with arms as thick as her little finger. “ _These_ would look great on you.”

Cassian made a small strangled sound and turned quickly away before she could jam them onto his face.

He looked down at the rest of the selection and gingerly selected a plain black pair with thin rims. Opening up the arms, he looked down at them dubiously.

“Here,” Kalonia said, pulling a small mirror from her desk and handing it to him, “Try them on.”

Jyn snatched the mirror out of his hand and held it up as he slipped the glasses onto his face.

He blinked at his reflection.

“Those make you look old,” Jyn said.

“I _am_ old,” he retorted, turning side to side, carefully brushing his hair back, “Or so you keep reminding me.”

“Try this one,” Jyn said, handing him a different pair, a deep, marbled brown with thick, square rims.

Cassian obliged, pushing them up his nose and staring at himself again.

“I like these,” Jyn said, “They match your eyes.”

Cassian flushed delicately, darting a glance at Kalonia, who watched them with obvious amusement. He pushed a hand through his hair again.

“They seem a little big,” he said, prodding the sharp rim corners.

“We can adjust some bits,” Kalonia said, “since we’re making them from scratch.”

“They’re also kind of heavy,” Cassian added, moving his head up and down as the frames slipped down his nose.

“You’re going to be reading with them, not fighting a farking sintaril,” Jyn said, rolling her eyes, “Who cares how heavy they are?”

“I do,” Cassian replied primly, pulling them off and looking over the rest of the selections.

“This is going to take a while,” Jyn said to Kalonia.

“I know,” the doctor replied, “I blocked out the whole afternoon.”

Cassian made a face, poking through the open boxes.

“It won’t take that long,” he said defensively.

“I brought my datapad,” Jyn said, “because I know it will.”

Cassian made a small humming noise. Then, he looked up at Kalonia.

“When you said custom-made,” he said, with a quick, smug glance at Jyn, “You meant custom-made, right?”

“Yes,” Kalonia replied slowly.

“Meaning we can start from scratch.”

Kalonia sighed.

“Yes,” she said.

“Oh fark,” Jyn said, “Why can’t you just settle for the sparkly golden ones? Those look nice too.”

“They don’t match my eyes,” Cassian replied blandly, shoving the boxes aside and reaching into his trouser pocket for the honest-to-Force _notebook_ he kept in there. (“The old ways, Jyn,” he’d said in response to her snort of incredulity twenty-some odd years ago, “Don’t insult my heritage.”) From amongst the code cylinders clipped to his front jacket pocket, he pulled a stylus, twisting out the charcoal nib, tucking that behind his ear and laying a short straightedge on the table. “I prefer something matte, dark, but not black,” he began, sketching, and Jyn realized he’d actually done _research_ into this, fark his neurotic soul, “Rectangular, not square frames, at a ratio of about 1.75:1.”

“Oh fark,” Jyn repeated, dropping the mirror to the table with a thunk and sitting back in her chair.

Cassian smirked.

In the end, they were in Kalonia’s offices for a little under two hours as General Cassian Andor, Commander-in-Chief of Closeted Vanity, laid out, in excruciating detail, the specifications for his reading glasses, scanning his drawings with his datapad and constructing a three-dimensional holodisplay he scrutinized closely.

“They look _exactly_ like those brown ones you tried on,” Jyn muttered, slouching along behind him as they returned to their quarters.

Cassian smiled down at her, bumping her shoulder playfully.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said.

Jyn glared sourly at him.

“I’m the one that got you started with this. You could say I deserved it.” She added under her breath, “And I should’ve seen this coming.”

Cassian shrugged easily, tossing his hair out of his eyes and waving her into their quarters ahead of them.

“I could,” he said, a smile in his voice, “But I don’t have to.”

Jyn huffed a sigh, shrugging out of her vest and tossing it onto the bed just to irritate him. His lips twitched as he carefully hung his jacket up on the hook beside the door.

They stood there, looking at each other, another smirk slowly making its way across Cassian’s face.

“I hate you,” Jyn said finally, stepping closer.

“I know,” he replied.

* * *

In a private, informal briefing in his on-base office some months later, Cassian looked up from his datapad when Leia fell silent mid-sentence.

“What?” he said, raising an eyebrow and peering at her over the rims of his glasses as he added, “You’re staring.”

Leia Organa Solo was indeed staring.

“You’re wearing glasses,” she said.

Cassian sighed. His eyebrow did not waver.

“Yes,” he replied, “That’s an impressive observation. I sense a long career in politics ahead of you.”

Leia blinked.

“Fark you,” she said, “Since when have you worn _glasses?_ ”

“You don’t have to make it sound like the farking Gobindi virus,” Cassian muttered. He set his datapad down, resigned.

“Glasses?” Leia repeated, still staring.

“Couple months,” Cassian replied. He made a face. “Could you stop staring? It’s not like I’ve grown another head.”

“You might as well have,” Leia shot back, “You look--”

“--choose your words carefully--”

Leia rolled her eyes.

“--Different, is all.”

“Different,” Cassian repeated flatly.

“Yeah.”

“I rescind my previous statement about a long career in politics. You’ll probably lose your seat in the Senate this next election cycle.”

“Charming.”

“Thank you.”

Leia snorted, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto his desk with a familiar, though now rare, graceful disregard for propriety. She scrutinized him briefly, and Cassian bore this with irritable long-suffering.

“This was Jyn’s idea, wasn’t it?” Leia said after a moment.

“Are we really going to discuss my _glasses?_ ” Cassian growled. He gestured at his datapad. “We have a lot to cover.”

“Definitely Jyn’s idea,” Leia said, smirking.

Cassian glared.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Leia replied, dropping her booted feet back to the ground with a light thump.

Cassian sighed.

“Well,” Leia continued casually, “At least now I understand why we’ve seen a 450% increase in requests for this truly archaic form of vision correction.”

Cassian choked.

“ _What?_ ”

“What can I say?” Leia grinned, “You’ve always been a trendsetter.” She turned back to her datapad. “Anyways--”

“--You can’t just _leave_ that there,” he snapped.

Leia laughed in his face.

“You’re so clueless sometimes, Cassian,” she said airly, snorting when he glared at her, “The vast majority of the women on this base--and a significant proportion of the men, I’m sure--are still holding out hope things won’t work out between you and Jyn.”

Cassian looked at her blankly.

Impatiently, Leia said, “They’re very interested in taking off more than just your very fashionable eyewear.”

After a moment of wordless horror, Cassian took off his glasses and set them on the table, the better to press his hands to his face.

“I’m too old for this,” he moaned, face hot.

“No, you’re just a late bloomer,” Leia said wickedly, “Forty-six is a nice, ripe age.”

Cassian groaned unintelligibly.

Leia enjoyed this immensely.

“You should just marry her,” she said conversationally, “Though that probably wouldn’t put an end to any of this.”

“You know I can’t marry her,” Cassiam mumbled into his hands, “She’d have to be transferred out from under my command.”

“It’s the New Republic’s most farking open secret the two of you have been together for Force knows how long. I don’t think anyone on the High Council would care if you decided to make it official.”

“Sixteen years,” Cassian said, voice still smothered.

“What?”

“Almost sixteen,” he repeated, barely--just barely looking at her through his fingers. It was an amusing sight. “We’ve been together almost sixteen years.”

“Thank you for that important piece of information,” Leia said drily, “But that doesn’t change anything. Just marry her. Think of the tax benefits.”

Cassian groaned again.

“I don’t want _tax benefits_ to be the reason we get married,” he moaned.

“Well, think of something else, then,” Leia said pertly, “After sixteen years--”

“-- _almost_ \--”

“--After _almost_ sixteen years together, my _apologies_ , you should have _some_ good reasons, I hope.”

Cassian scrubbed his face and, with great strength of will, lowered his hands to the table.

“I’m too old for this,” he repeated.

“Too old for what?” Jyn asked, stepping through the door without so much as a knock, “Hey Leia.”

“Hey Jyn,” Leia replied, grinning broadly

Cassian flushed again, red-hot and twitching.

Jyn raised an eyebrow at him and went to perch on the edge of his desk, her knee brushing his.

“Is this something extremely, seriously, very gravely confidential?” she asked him, “I can wait for you in our quarters.”

“No, we were just about finished,” Leia said, standing.

Cassian shot her a look.

“What are you two up to tonight?” Leia continued, ignoring him completely.

“It’s Zhellday,” Jyn replied.

“Oh. Right. Dinner with Kes?”

“Yeah,” Jyn replied, “Poe’s also back from the academy on break, so it’ll be with the two of them. Want to join us?”

Cassian’s hand tightened unconsciously on her thigh. Jyn looked quizzically down at him.

“Sure,” Leia said brightly, “It’ll be good to catch up.”

Cassian cleared his throat.

“What is wrong with you?” Jyn asked him bluntly.

“Nothing,” he replied, standing quickly and wincing as his back popped. He paused. They were eye-to-eye like this, and he took a moment--just to look.

At forty-two, she really had aged much better than he had, her eyes still as sharp, her hair still as dark. The hard lines on her face had always been there, he thought. They told the truth of her character--the strength, the stubbornness. The softness deep within. If her youth had been a streaking, raging fire, then age had mellowed her, dampened the roaring flames to a fierce glow, banishing his own darkness.

“You can kiss me, you know,” she said, mouth curled in amusement, “I think Leia’s seen that before.”

He stared at her. Somewhere beyond, Leia sighed noisily.

When he did nothing, Jyn’s amusement flickered through confusion to concern, eyes tightening in question. He leaned forward then, slowly, drawn by her gaze, and very gently, touched his lips to hers. She gripped his hand tightly.

“Ew,” Leia said, drawing the word out dramatically, “You guys are gross.”

“You want to _walk_ to Vornez?” Cassian shot back, pulling Jyn to her feet. He almost smiled as her cheek only just barely brushed his shoulder.

“It’s like watching my brother kiss my sister,” Leia shuddered dramatically, “Now, _that’s_ something the High Council might have a problem with. Incest.”

“What?” Jyn asked, confusion mounting again.

“Ignore her,” Cassian muttered, shooing them out of the room, “She’s just trying to make trouble.”

“I’m very good at that,” Leia said, “You could say it’s in my genes.”

They shared a brief look then, out in the hall.

“I think,” Cassian said, pulling on his jacket, “You’ve just had some good examples.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's notes [here.](https://ibohe.tumblr.com/post/159170514116/another-look-chapter-1)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian does some fathering.

Poe had grown since Cassian had last seen him, having apparently hit a late growth spurt during his last term at the Academy that nevertheless still left him a good inch shorter than his favorite uncle. He was lounging against the back porch rail, bottle in hand, when Cassian pulled the speeder to a halt, wind ruffling his barely-regulation-length hair, a broad grin on his face.

“Uncle Cass!” he shouted, bounding down the steps, eighteen standard years of unapologetic enthusiasm, “Jyn!”

They hugged, Poe gripping him long and hard before stepping back and doing the same to Jyn.

“Hey, Auntie Leia,” he said, stooping still lower to wrap his arms around their unexpected guest, “I haven’t seen you in a while. How’re things going?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know,” Leia replied easily, “Han’ll be sorry he missed you--he left for Kashyyyk just this morning. If he’d known you’d be back, he’d’ve stayed.”

Poe shrugged, still smiling.

“Aw, I’ll just ‘call him or something,” he said, leading them up the steps and into the house. “Pap, they’re here!” he shouted, “And so’s Leia!”

Kes poked his head in from the kitchen, nearly bursting out of one of Shara’s ghastly old floral-print aprons, skillet in hand.

“You’re early,” he scowled. He pointed the sizzling skillet at Cassian. “I blame you.”

Cassian shrugged, slipping past him into the kitchen and scrounging up utensils for an extra place setting. Behind him, he heard Leia and Kes laugh loudly at something Poe had said.

“Hey,” Jyn slipped her hand unexpectedly up his arm. He jumped, dropping a fork. “Sorry,” Jyn said, bending quickly and picking it up. She stepped away to the sink to rinse it off, looking curiously over her shoulder at him. “Is everything okay?” she asked, “You seem distracted.”

 _Should we get married?_ he thought, _But I_ \--

“Yeah,” he said roughly, taking the fork from her and drying it off, “‘M just tired. Sorry.” He offered up a quick smile as reassurance. He could tell she wasn’t fooled, but she let him escape to the dining room with a dire look that said _We will Talk about this later_.

“--taking this class on stress and health and stuff,” Poe was saying as he returned, large eyes bright and excited, “And on the first day of class, Rondo asked us what we all thought ‘stress’ was.”

Cassian pulled an extra chair to the table, hesitating briefly when he stuck it into the empty spot where Shara had used to sit.

“And then I said ‘pressure.’”

“I’m not liking where this is going,” Kes muttered, tugging the apron over his head with a look of relief.

“And then Rondo was like, ‘Okay, so how would you define “pressure”?’”

Poe grinned quickly.

“And then I said--” he paused, timing the punchline perfectly, “--’Pressure is equal to force over area!’”

Kes groaned, shaking his head.

“Thank Force you have your Ma’s looks,” he muttered, “Or no girl’d give your big bookbrain a second glance.”

Poe grinned, looking quickly up at Cassian.

Jyn wandered in from the kitchen and pointedly set a glass of water down in front of Cassian’s seat.

“Whoops,” Poe said, standing quickly and taking his half-finished bottle through to the kitchen, “Sorry, Uncle Cass.”

Cassian shrugged, hands clasped behind his back.

“Alright,” Kes said, rubbing his hands together. Leia stood too. “I guess this means dinner’s ready.”

“Great,” she said, eyeing the feast laid out before them, “I’m starving.”

Poe bounded back in from the kitchen, plopping himself down next to Leia and across from Cassian, who sat with a quiet grunt.

Unsurprisingly, Poe spurred the conversation on, chattering on about his classes at the Academy, his latest exploits in the simulator, his latest exploits outside the simulator--and on. Cassian listened fondly, nodding at intervals when Poe glanced over at him, seeking reassurance or confirmation. Kes grumbled dangerously and roared with laughter in turn, radiating pride. Leia engaged in the occasional elucidating political discourse about this mission or that treaty, laughing equally as fondly as Poe told story after story, bursting with excitement to share. Jyn, for her part, sat at Cassian’s side and viciously shoveled food onto his plate, levying nonverbal threats until it all, piece by piece, disappeared into his mouth.

Leia watched this with amusement, dark eyes crinkling.

Cassian glared at her.

As the meal wore on, Poe’s glances at Cassian grew in frequency to the point that Cassian became certain that something was wrong. Sure enough, the moment the dishes were cleared away (“Just let us, for once, do things around our own house, would you?” Kes had grumbled, shooing Leia off), Poe sidled up to Cassian, nervous question in his eyes.

“Let’s go take a look at that tree of yours,” Cassian said, taking the hint, “See if your pap’s been taking good care of it.”

Kes rolled his eyes, a bit melodramatically. Jyn smiled to herself.

Poe smiled brightly through lingering uncertainty.

Cassian shouldered his way out onto the porch first, hold the door open for Poe, who followed him down the steps, hands in his pockets. They ambled slowly through the thick night to the tree, which, slender and strong, glowed brightly between their two houses. Cassian crouched in the dirt, making a show of feeling the soil between his fingers.

Poe stood off to the side, biting his lip.

Cassian waited patiently.

Poe let out a small, sheepish laugh, running a hand through his thick hair. Cassian looked up at him, smiling crookedly.

“What is it, _nen_?” he asked gently.

Poe took a deep breath, mouth still curled.

“I haven’t told Pap about this,” he said slowly, “Or anyone.”

Cassian sat slowly, stretching his legs out before him.

“Okay,” he said.

The tree cast sharp shadows across the sculpted lines of Poe’s face, and in the glowing half-dark, he looked older, more uncertain.

 _Fark, Cass,_ Kes had moaned somewhere around Poe’s fourteenth birthday, _Look at that face. All the girls are going to be after him._

Poe paced beside the tree, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets.

“ _Oncle_ \--” he looked up sharply, his voice breaking. He bit his lip again, struggling for words. “ _Crec que_ … I--I think--” He broke off again, turning bodily away, head bowed into the night.

Cassian stood, concern rising. He put a hand on Poe’s shoulder, tenderly turning him around.

“You can tell me,” he murmured, “You can tell me anything.”

Poe dashed an angry hand across his eyes. Cassian hadn’t seen him cry in years, not since he’d opened up his acceptance letter to the Academy and seen the tears well in his own father’s eyes. He stared down at the ground. Cassian put a hand under his chin and slowly tipped his head up, as he had done when Poe had crept into his room during those first few weeks and sobbed into his shoulder.

“I think,” Poe whispered, eyes wide, shoulders trembling, “Uncle Cass, I think--” He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. He opened his eyes and forced the words out.

“I think I like guys.”

Cassian blinked.

“Okay,” he said.

He waited.

Poe twitched before him, sniffling quietly.

“Is…” Cassian said quietly, “Is there anything else?”

Poe shook his head.

“Oh,” Cassian said, dropping his hand in relief, “Thank fark.”

Poe jerked his head up at that, uncertainty in his face.

Cassian smiled fondly at him.

“You’re such a silly boy,” he said, reaching out and ruffling Poe’s hair, “After all that, I thought it would be something terrible. Almost gave this old man a heart attack.”

A small smile crept onto Poe’s face, and he dashed another hand across his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.

“Come here,” Cassian said, wrapping his arms around Poe, “Why would you be so afraid to tell me, hm?” He pressed a kiss into his nephew’s hair as a small sob broke free. “I’ll always love you, _nen_ ,” Cassian whispered, “Even if you come back one day and tell me you’ve left the Academy to become a traveling musician.”

That wrenched another laugh out of Poe, who tucked his head into Cassian’s shoulder as he had ten years ago, small and quiet and frightened.

“I just--” Poe said hoarsely, “It’s… It’s just confusing.”

Cassian huffed a laugh.

“That’s one word for it,” he said.

He felt Poe smile into his shoulder.

They pulled apart then, Poe swiping at his eyes again, Cassian smiling crookedly.

“Your pap won’t mind,” he said firmly as they slowly made their way back to the house, “If anything, it’ll be a relief.”

Poe glanced at him, almost shyly.

“Why?” he asked.

Cassian snorted.

“He was afraid he’d become a grandfather after your first term away. Yes--” he said wryly when Poe turned to look at him incredulously, “That was his greatest fear. He saw the way they surrounded you at the prop’ school, but there you were always such a gentleman. Now...” he grinned at Poe as they climbed the steps again together, “I know that might not be the case.”

Even in the dim light, Poe blushed fiercely, biting his lip again.

Cassian’s grin broadened.

“Yeah?” he said, pausing on the top step, “There’s someone?”

Poe nodded sheepishly.

“It’s--sort of,” he mumbled, half-illuminated in the light from the house, “It’s still confusing right now.”

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder, gripping him fiercely.

“Is he a good person?”

Poe looked down and away.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Good,” Cassian said, “I’m happy for you.”

Poe looked up at him, fully man and fully boy.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Cassian smiled and pushed him gently towards the door.

“Come on,” he said, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's notes [here](https://ibohe.tumblr.com/post/159207974931/another-look-chapter-2).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian is a sly fox (sort of, not really).

“You want to stay with us tonight, or you want me to fly you back?” Cassian asked, standing with Leia and Jyn out on Kes’s back porch.

Leia glanced over her shoulder at his speeder, then out across the clearing.

“I guess it’s a little late to be heading back,” she said, almost apologetically, “Would it be alright if I stayed?”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, nudging Jyn down the steps before him, “You can sleep outside. The bench is nice.”

Jyn sighed loudly.

“Great,” Leia said, “I’ve always wanted to see a sintaril.”

Cassian turned and saw Poe watching them leave from the rear window. He offered up an encouraging nod, and Poe smiled weakly, waving goodnight.

Jyn looked at him questioningly when he reached the bottom of the steps, and he shrugged.

 _I’ll tell you later_.

He slid his hand into hers, ignoring Leia’s significant look, and set out past the glowing Force-sensitive tree to their home.

“I’ll get the sheets and stuff,” Jyn said once they were inside, “You can have the spare room.”

“Thanks,” Leia replied.

Cassian smiled his thanks and turned back to Leia.

“You need to shower? I still have that spare change of clothes you left last time.”

Leia shook her head.

“Just a towel’s fine,” she said around a yawn, “I’ll shower when I get back tomorrow.”

Cassian crossed the room to the hall cabinet as she spoke, pulling out a hand towel and hurling it across the room. Leia swatted it out of the air with a scowl. Cassian smirked.

“I’ll go see if Jyn needs any help,” he said over his shoulder, “Try not to break anything.”

“That was _one time!_ ” Leia shouted after him.

Cassian smiled to himself as he strode down the hall, pushing open the door to the spare room with a light tap. Jyn looked up, tucking in the last corner of the bedspread, pillows piled on the desk by the door.

“Thanks,” he said, tossing the pillows over.

Jyn put the pillows down neatly and smoothed down the sheets. Cassian stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair. She leaned back against his chest.

“Have you asked about Luke?” she said quietly.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her.

“No,” he replied lowly, “Do you want me to?”

Jyn shook her head, which meant _yes, but no_.

Cassian sighed, looking at the empty desk, the empty shelves, the empty walls.

Empty hope, was what this room was.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Jyn said suddenly, pulling away, “I didn’t mean to--”

Cassian spun her around and tightened his arms, bending down for a long, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, Jyn looked up at him, eyes bright.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand, a crooked smile on his face. He led her out of the room and back down the hall to the family room, where Leia was lounging on the couch, datapad perched on the rucksack perched on stomach.

“What time are you heading back down tomorrow?” Leia asked, yawning again.

Cassian glanced down at Jyn, who shook her head.

“Whenever you need to go,” he replied, collapsing into his favorite armchair, Jyn squished in beside him, “It’s the weekend.”

“Oh. Right,” Leia replied, frowning, “I should’ve thought of that--”

Cassian waved her off.

“I have to be there anyways,” he said, “Is leaving at around seven okay?”

“Yeah,” Leia yawned, sitting up and slowly tugging the pins from her hair, “I should probably just sleep now then.”

“We’ll have a lot to catch up on tomorrow,” Cassian agreed drily.

Leia sighed and ran her hands through her thick, dark hair.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, dumping her datapad into her rucksack and standing, “Good night. Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“It’ll be eighty credits, please,” Cassian said, holding out his hand.

“Fark off,” Leia growled, stalking past him down the hall, “’Night, Jyn.”

Jyn smiled up at her and Cassian laughed quietly, listening to her footsteps retreat, the door creak closed. He wrapped an arm around Jyn and pulled her in tightly, leaning the chair back and picking at her hair tie until it came loose. He secured it around his wrist and gently carded his hand through her hair.

“I’m getting old,” Jyn said into his chest.

His hand stuttered.

“Yeah,” he replied.

She was silent for a while, but Cassian knew she wasn’t asleep.

“Did you ever think what it might have been like?” Jyn whispered.

He looked down at the top of her head. This close, he could see the shining grey slivers of age.

“Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

Jyn turned to look up at him.

“Still?” she asked.

“I always have,” he replied without thinking.

Jyn searched his face, dark eyes wandering, wondering.

“Then why?” she said.

_Why not try again?_

Cassian’s face tightened.

“I don’t know,” he replied hoarsely.

_I don’t know if I could._

Jyn sat up slowly, bringing them eye-to-eye, half a breath apart.

“You’re not that old,” she said.

A smile curled his lips.

“I know,” he said.

Jyn gave him a long look, then settled back against his shoulder, reaching out and resting her hand over his. Cassian leaned back and closed his eyes, resting in her familiar warmth.

“Is Poe alright?” she asked.

 _I love you_ , he thought.

“Yeah,” he said.

“More,” she muttered, squeezing his hand.

“He, uh--” a faint laugh escaped him, “He had some relationship questions.”

Jyn snorted loudly, sitting back again to look up at him.

“And he asked _you?_ ”

“Hey,” he protested, smiling, “I think I’ve done alright.”

Jyn arched an eyebrow.

“Just alright?” she said.

“Maybe a little better,” he admitted, shrugging.

Jyn huffed.

“I don’t know why I stay.”

Cassian looked at her.

“I thought you liked me.”

“Maybe.”

Jyn smiled at him, wolfishly, the kind he could never tire of seeing.

“You dropped a fork today,” she said.

“I’m tired,” he said, closing his eyes, “I think I can be allowed one fork.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Cassian yawned.

“Cassian,” Jyn said warningly.

He scooped both arms under her suddenly, lurching to his feet with a loud pop of his knees. Jyn yelped and wrapped her arms instinctively around his neck.

“ _Cassian_ ,” she snapped.

“No,” he replied blandly, turning slowly for the hall, Jyn curled in his arms.

“Put. Me. _Down_.” She wriggled her hips back and forth, struggling to break free. Cassian held her tighter, quietly pushing open their bedroom door. “ _Cassian_ , I swear--”

He dropped her onto their bed.

Jyn grunted, air whooshing out of her lungs.

Cassian bent over her, and the dim light from the hall gleamed in his eyes.

“Happy?” he whispered into her ear.

Their mouths joined together, and Jyn did not reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian realizes that it is time.

Cassian had been frightened of many things in his forty-six years.

Rancors. Wampas. Ewoks. Bail Organa with that particular gleam in his eye.

Nothing, however, quite compared to the paralyzing terror associated with the mere thought of asking Jyn Erso for her hand in marriage.

After a stifling hour-long speeder ride of deliberation, coupled with Leia’s significant and increasingly amused looks, he booted her out in the base’s main hangar and went off to his own offices, locking the door behind him.

He checked the chrono on the wall, did some vague math, then, full of trepidation, dialed a holonumber by memory. It only took two rings for a tall, elegant figure to fizzle to life before him.

“General,” Mon Mothma said, vaguely alarmed, “What is it?”

“I apologize for ‘calling you on this line, Chancellor,” Cassian said, shifting uncomfortably, “But there’s a--” he hesitated, _very_ uncomfortable, “--a personal matter I wished to discuss with you.”

Mon Mothma raised an elegant eyebrow.

“Oh?” she said.

Cassian cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he replied, staring through her holo to the wall beyond.

The Chancellor of the New Republic waited patiently. Cassian felt distinctly humored.

“I understand that there are certain… regulations in place,” he began slowly, “Regarding fraternization with High Command.”

“Yes,” Mon Mothma said serenely.

“And that these exist for a reason--”

“--I said yes, Cassian,” Mon Mothma said.

Cassian twitched.

“Chancellor?” he asked, confused.

“You’re asking to marry Jyn Erso,” Mon Mothma replied, her mouth lifting at the corners, “And I said yes.”

“But--” Cassian protested feebly.

“--You two are--” she inclined her head gracefully, clearly searching for a polite term, “--codependent. You two have a history of working well together, and it would be in the New Republic’s best interests for nothing to change in this regard. If the rest of High Command had found issue with the two of you, they would by now certainly have voiced their concerns. You must admit your relationship hasn’t nearly been the best-kept of secrets.”

Cassian swallowed.

“But--” he tried again.

“--For someone making a fairly important life decision,” Mon Mothma said wryly, “You certainly seem quite opposed to it..”

Cassian twitched, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Mon Mothma laughed quietly at the perplexed look on his face.

“Has this really been your only objection?” she asked curiously, smiling warmly as he struggled for words.

“Ye--I…” he fumbled for words, “Ah. I don’t--” he sighed, looking up at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Well, you’ll have no objection on our front,” Mon Mothma said pointedly.

Cassian hesitated.

“Thank you?” he said.

“You are most welcome,” Mon Mothma replied. She added, ever so drily, “Good luck.”

* * *

Cassian spent the morning in a daze. Leia found him in his office that afternoon, staring into the depths of his packed lunch, an expression of vague panic in his eyes.

“So,” she smirked.

“Fark,” he replied.

* * *

That evening, he flew down to the prop'--the village proper--on his way back from the base, mind churning. He peeked in through the window of the long, low building at the center of town, saw who he was looking for, and settled down to wait outside.

Raucous laughter drifted out from the half-open door, and Cassian scooted a little farther away, perched on the top step of the front walk, datapad in hand. His message indicator blinked at him, so he opened up his inbox to find a waiting message from Jyn. He tugged out his glasses from the front pocket of his tunic and slid them on.

_Where are you?_

Cassian pressed his lips together, considered lying.

 _At the prop',_ he typed out instead.

A long pause.

He opened up some mission reports, hesitated, and sent another message.

_Sitting outside, don’t worry. Just waiting._

Still nothing.

He returned to the mission reports. Kejim had revealed nothing, which was both frustrating and reassuring. The Imperial Remnant lingered still, impossible to root out. He read through Kyle Katarn’s report--dry and concise, just like the Jedi himself--and marked some important pieces of information to mention at the next day’s briefing.

“What the fark are you doing here?”

Cassian turned sharply, standing with a startled pop of aging knees, hand falling to his side.

Kes Dameron stood in the doorway, frowning down at him.

“Waiting for you,” Cassian replied.

“Jyn commed me,” Kes said warily, “She said you were here.”

“I’m not looking for a drink,” Cassian said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

“Okay,” Kes said, letting the door fall shut behind him.

They stood together in the sudden quiet, the sudden darkness. Cassian looked away, drumming his fingers on his datapad.

“Okay,” Kes repeated, looking him up and down. “Let me get my stuff.”

He turned back into the pub. Cassian tucked his datapad into his large trouser pocket, hands clasped behind his back, staring out into the darkness. Beyond the merry pools of light streaming from the pub’s windows, the village was quiet, shrouded in night, the stars glimmering brightly far above. He wondered how many of them burned still, how many of them had long ago been extinguished, old light travelled years and years across space, a dim echo.

“Okay,” Kes said again, reappearing at his shoulder, jacket tucked under an arm, bag slung across his shoulders. “Where do you wanna do this?”

Cassian glanced at him, sidelong.

“Do I need to be sitting down?” Kes said drily, “You’re scaring me a little, Cass.”

“It’s--” Cassian began tightly, hands stuffed tightly into his pockets, “It’s nothing bad.”

Kes sighed, starting down the steps. Cassian followed him.

“The very fact that you’ve turned up _here_ ,” Kes gestured at the pub behind them, “and not gone straight back to talk with Jyn about whatever this is makes me want to call bantha shavit.” He looked keenly over at Cassian. “Unless this has to do with Jyn.” Cassian squinted away, across the village square as they paced together along the grassy verge. “In which case,” Kes said with growing dread, “This is very bad.”

Cassian glared at him.

“Oh fark,” Kes blurted, “Are you two breaking up?”

Cassian brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Oh fark,” Kes said, eyes wide, “Wh--”

“--We’re not breaking up,” Cassian replied tautly.

“Oh,” Kes said, “Are you sure? Because I don’t know what else could give you that serious a Constipated Emotions face.”

Cassian’s glare intensified.

“We aren’t breaking up,” he snarled, “I’m asking her to _marry_ me.”

Kes jerked his head around so sharply his neck cracked.

“Marry,” he repeated, “You. Her.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cassian replied, agonized.

“Holy Sith,” Kes said flatly, “It’s about farking time.”

“What,” Cassian said.

“It’s been _sixteen years_ , Cass,” Kes snorted, “That’s a long time to be waiting.”

“ _Almost_ sixteen years,” Cassian corrected peevishly.

“Well, _sorry_.” Kes looked over at his friend, grinning. “What changed your mind?”

Cassian shrugged.

“Cass. Come on.”

Cassian shook his head helplessly.

“No, I don’t know. Really.”

“There has to be _something._ ”

“Leia brought it up yesterday--”

“--and today, you just decided it was time!?” Kes yelped, “The fark is _wrong_ with you?”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Cassian burst out, “I don’t even know if it’s the right thing to do!”

He took a deep breath. Forced his racing heart to slow.

“The fark are you talking about?” Kes said, “How is marrying the woman you love ever not the right thing to do?”

“Is that good enough?” Cassian said, “Is--is--” he stumbled over his words, “--is _loving_ her enough?”

Kes stopped and seized Cassian’s arm.

“Listen to yourself,” he snapped, “You’re being ridiculous.”

Cassian opened his mouth, but Kes spoke over him.

“You two--” he growled, “You two are the biggest farking idiots in the galaxy. Have you _seen_ the way you look at each other? It’s disgusting. It’s like you guys just met or something, but without those first four years of passive-aggressive pining.”

Cassian made a small, strangled sound of protest.

“Shut up,” Kes snarled, “I’m just getting started. I mean, you’ve both given up huge things to stay together. You left Intelligence to sit in meetings all day. She left the Pathfinders and took a farking _teaching position_ with the NRIS. You’ve both been through so much farked up shavit together--” Cassian flinched “--that... that-- _augh!_ ” Kes made a choked-off noise in the back of his throat, gesturing violently.

They walked in silence for a while.

“You know what love is?" Kes said suddenly, intensely, "Love isn’t that stupid thing you see in the holonovas. Love isn’t her propping your farking boozed-out face up over the toilet so you won’t choke on your own vomit. Love isn’t you smiling at her, telling her that you love her. Nope. That’s not love.”

Kes’s eyes, dark and fierce, glittered under the stars. “You want to know what I think love is?” He drew a deep breath. “Love is locking you up, asking everyone you know for help without giving two farks about your Force-damned pride because you have a farking _problem_ , that you’re _sick_. Love is breaking down, crying on her shoulder because talking about Tantim _hurts_ and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move past it. Love is spooning farking _soup_ into your mouth when you’re flat on your back and you just spit it up because all you want is another drink. Love is admitting that, yeah, you wanted kids of your own, you really did, but the fact that she _can't_ doesn't change anything between the two of you.”

“Love is missing her when you’re apart, even for a little, because you’re sure you’re not going to have her forever, and you realize you don’t want to live alone,” Kes stepped back, breathing heavily. “Love is wishing--” his voice broke, “--wishing, every day, _that she was still here_.”

Cassian swallowed.

“Don’t tell me loving her isn’t enough,” Kes said quietly, “Don’t you dare.”

They looked at each other in dark light.

“Kes--” Cassian began.

“--Hey Pap! Uncle Cass!” a voice called.

They turned and saw Poe jogging towards them.

“I stopped at the pub and they said you’d left already, but your speeder was still outside,” Poe said, skidding to a halt before them, grinning, “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

He spoke lightly, but he looked between the two of them with genuine, deep-seated fear gleaming half-hidden in his eyes.

Kes snorted wetly, disguising the hand he swiped across his eyes as a hand-wave of derision.

“I’m not that old,” he grunted, “Can still find my own way back after a few drinks.”

“Did someone say drinks?” Cassian drawled, slinging a hand around Poe’s shoulders and turning them back towards the heart of the village, “I could do with a drink.”

“Cremation or mummification?” Kes shot back, “For after Jyn murders you.”

“Both of us, you mean,” Cassian said, laughing, “But you should know better than this. Bury me at sea. It’s one of--”

“--your farking old ways, okay, I get it,” Kes muttered.

“Come _on_ , Pap,” Poe said in Scryllic, “Get it together.”

Kes squinted at him, uncomprehending.

“Yes,” he said finally, “I love you too.”

Poe laughed, voice bright, a promise.

* * *

 

Jyn kissed him the moment he stumbled in the back door, weariness settling deep in his aching bones.

She did it to check his breath, he knew, but tonight, it meant more.

He leaned in, bringing his hands up behind her, drawing them together. Surprised, her lips smiled into his, her eyes tracking his in question. He drew back.

“Do I pass?” he asked, shrugging out of his uniform jacket and hanging it on its hook by the door.

Jyn arched an eyebrow.

“You’re late,” she said, “Very late.”

“I knew you were cooking,” he replied, “So I gave you some extra time.”

“Fark you!” she laughed, brushing past him into the kitchen. He followed, rolling up his sleeves as he went. “What were you doing down at the prop’?” she asked, pulling food from the warmer.

“Had to talk to Kes about something,” he replied truthfully, taking an ominously swirling bowl of noodles out of her hands, “Decided to just catch up with him and Poe.”

“Yeah?” Jyn said, following him to the dining room, “How was that?”

“Good,” Cassian replied, “We went for a walk.”

Jyn grunted and sat next to him, falling voraciously upon her dinner.

He waited until she had a mouthful of noodles.

“Jyn,” he said, “do you want to marry me?”

She spat her noodles out with a violence reminiscent of her infamous truncheon demonstrations and turned to him, half her hair falling into the soup. She did not appear to notice.

“ _What,_ ” she snapped.

Cassian serenely spooned soup into his mouth.

“Do you want to marry me,” he repeated.

She stared at him some more.

“Are you _asking?_ ” she demanded.

Cassian cocked his head.

“I did phrase it as a question, so yeah, I guess.”

Jyn narrowed her eyes.

“You _guess_ ,” she repeated dangerously.

“Would you prefer,” he said, rising slowly and pushing his chair back, “If I did this?”

He sank creakily to a knee.

Jyn stared at him, wide-eyed.

He pulled a small box out of his pocket.

“No,” she said, scooting back, “Oh no.”

“Jyn Erso,” Cassian said, “will you marry me?”

“Oh fark,” Jyn said, blinking rapidly, “Oh fark, you’re serious.”

“I’m always serious,” he replied.

“No,” Jyn replied, voice rising, “Usually, you’re just a farking idiot.”

“What does everyone keep _saying_ that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Jyn shouted, “You’re an idiot, Cassian! You--”

“ _\--DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME OR NOT!?_ ” Cassian bellowed, opening the box and shoving it into her face.

“ _SIXTEEN YEARS!”_ Jyn shouted right back, “ _SIXTEEN YEARS, AND THIS IS WHAT I GET!?_ ”

“ _Almost_ ,” Cassian hissed, “ _Almost_ sixteen years!”

“ _DOES IT FARKING MATTER!?”_

“ _NO!_ ”

They glared at each other. Jyn stared at the ring.

“Oh fark,” she said again, “This is really happening.”

“Yeah,” Cassian replied, “It is.”

“We’re so old.”

“Forty’s not that old.”

“You’re still kneeling because you can’t get up. Don’t try to lie.”

Cassian gritted his teeth together.

“Jyn,” he snarled, “Answer the farking question.”

“Why?”

“Because, as you pointed out, my knees hurt--”

“--No, why now? Why, after all this time?”

He looked up at her, at this fierce, brave woman.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he said, “But, yeah, we’re getting old, Jyn, and we know how things really work.” He looked earnestly up at her, at the disbelieving yearning in her eyes. “Nothing really lasts forever,” he said quietly, “But I thought I might give it a try.”

Jyn swallowed.

“You’re not talking about the ring,” she said.

“No,” he replied.

“It’s a nice ring.”

“It was Shara’s,” he said, with difficulty, “My grandmother’s before that.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Jyn,” Cassian said roughly, tears unexpectedly clouding his eyes, “I love you.”

Jyn stared down at him.

“Yeah,” she said hoarsely, “I love you too.”

Something in his chest tightened.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Cassian rasped, “Would you please answer the farking question?”

Jyn smiled at him, green eyes bright, catching the the light of invisible stars.

“What was the question again?” she asked.

Cassian laughed, arms and legs aching, heart wonderfully whole.

“Jyn Erso,” he choked out, laughing and crying all at once, “Will you marry me?”

Jyn stepped forward slowly, wrapping her hands around his, around the box and the ring in the box and all the ghosts within.

“Yes,” she said, accepting them all, “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be an epilogue to this.  
> If I do post it, some of you will probably come at me with flaming pitchforks.  
> If I don't post it... some of you will probably still come at me with flaming pitchforks.
> 
> This chapter's notes [here](https://ibohe.tumblr.com/post/159284363266/another-look-chapter-4).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding has an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll understand the ending a lot better if you’ve been following one of my other WIPs. I can’t say much else without giving the whole bloody thing away, but unless you want to be wildly confused by the last bit of this, I _strongly_ recommend you go have a quick look through [_Alternatively, Together_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9829412/chapters/22070984) first.

Sitting out on their back porch, a cool glass of muja juice in his hand, Cassian watched Jyn sprint after Poe across the clearing, shouting incoherently. He took a small sip, rising and slowly descending the steps as they approached, Poe far ahead, Jyn shrieking bloody murder.

Cassian set his glass down behind the steps for safekeeping.

“Uncle Cass!” Poe shouted, grinning broadly, panting for breath, “Help! Jyn’s gonna kill me!”

He skidded to a halt just before Cassian, pulling his uncle around and crouching comically behind him, peering over a shoulder.

“What’ve you done now?” Cassian asked, craning his neck to look back at his overgrown boy of a nephew.

 _“Poe Dameron!”_ Jyn shouted, slamming straight into Cassian and tackling both of them to the ground.

“Help!” Poe shouted, shoving Cassian off of him and scrambling to his feet, “Heelp!”

Jyn seized his ankle, toppling him again, convulsing with laughter. She climbed bodily on top of him, pinning his legs and twisting an arm violently behind his back.

“Ow!” he yelped, caught between pain and laughter, “Ow! Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! Let me go!”

Jyn pressed her knee tighter into the small of his back, lip curled in feral amusement.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Ow--I’m sorry!” Poe shouted, face pressed into the grass.

“Mmm,” Jyn said, standing.

Poe rolled onto his back, staring up at her.

“You take things way too seriously,” he said, massaging his shoulder.

Jyn raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that’s a bad thing,” Poe added quickly.

Behind her, Cassian groaned.

“Uh,” Poe said, sitting up as Jyn turned, “You alright, Uncle Cass?”

Cassian, curled up on the ground, swore violently, knees squeezed together, hands pressed between his legs. He cracked open one eye, glaring balefully up at Jyn, who smirked almost apologetically down at him.

“You--” he snarled, “The _fark?_ ”

“Sorry,” she said, smirk breaking into a smile. She crouched beside him. Poe burst out laughing again, flopping back into the grass.

Cassian groaned, louder this time, rolling to his knees, forehead pressed to the ground. Jyn smoothed her hand up and down his back, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“What’s going on out there!?” Kes bellowed, sticking his head out his window.

“Jyn kneed Uncle Cass in the nuts!” Poe shouted helpfully at the sky.

“Good shot!” Kes replied.

“ _Fark you!_ ” Cassian shouted into the grass.

Kes laughed and turned back into the house.

“Do you--” Jyn smothered another laugh, “Do you need ice or anything?”

Cassian silenced her with a look of pure loathing.

“ _No_ ,” he spat.

Jyn sat back and held both her hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” she said, struggling and failing to contain her laughter.

Cassian swore again and staggered to his feet, bent double, hands gripping his knees. Poe ambled by, snickering.

“See you later,” he said to Jyn, who turned and shoved him off, grinning, back to his house.

Cassian straightened slowly with a long, pained exhale, hands on his hips. Jyn smiled.

“This isn’t funny,” he growled.

“Yeah, it is,” she replied.

The back door slammed behind Poe, and Cassian looked down at her.

“What was all that about?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

“Nothing,” Jyn said.

“You kicked me in the balls for nothing,” Cassian said flatly.

“It wasn’t a kick. It was a knee.”

Cassian groaned, bent, and straightened again quickly.

Jyn made a face.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” she asked.

“I,” Cassian said tightly, “really don’t think you’re allowed to say anything right now.”

He took a tentative step forwards.

“Poe was telling me about that talk you two had when he was back on break,” Jyn said.

Cassian looked over at her, gingerly making his way back to the porch steps.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah,” Jyn replied.

Cassian bent and retrieved his glass of now-lukewarm muja juice. Wordlessly, Jyn took it from his hand as he steadied himself against the rail.

“I think he’s got his heart set on being a pilot,” Jyn continued, following him up.

“Really.”

“I mean,” Jyn huffed, “He comes along with me on these things just to give me company, I think.” She made a face. “Or something to do.”

“It’s important, what you’re teaching him,” Cassian replied, pausing at the top of the steps, looking back at her. He hesitated, then added. “Pilots get shot down. He’ll need to know how to survive.”

Jyn raised her eyebrows.

“Not that I’m expecting there to be another war,” Cassian sighed, pulling the door open for her.

 _Liar_ , her eyes said.

She set his glass down on the kitchen counter and turned to face him, arms folded.

Cassian leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

“So,” she said.

He looked at her, lips quirked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Jyn glanced up at the chrono above his head.

“Three hours,” she said, “Should probably start getting ready.”

He stepped towards her, eyebrows raised.

“You’re nervous,” he said, amused.

“No,” she said quickly.

He grinned at her.

She hated the way his face lit up like that, with all the lines that deepened and grew, the thick lashes that reduced his eyes to dark, smiling crescents.

“Aren’t you?” she countered, lifting her chin and glaring at him.

He smirked.

“Why’re you nervous?” he asked, “You’ve given me plenty of chances these past almost-sixteen years to make a run for it.” He shrugged, leaning in. “But I’m still here.”

Jyn made a face and leaned away.

“I have to wear a dress,” she said, “I don’t like wearing dresses.”

“You wear my shirts all the time,” Cassian pointed out, “That’s kind of the same thing.”

Jyn grumbled under her breath. Cassian smiled.

“It _was_ your idea,” he said.

“I’m regretting it already,” Jyn replied, jabbing him in the chest with a pointed finger.

A knock at the back door.

Jyn groaned. Cassian laughed, high and clear, and shouted, “Come in!”

Leia poked her head in.

“Hey--” she began, then caught sight of them--Jyn bent over backwards against the counter, Cassian, grinning, inches from her face--and sighed. “Really?”

Cassian grunted, pressing a lingering kiss to Jyn’s lips.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening and pulling Jyn upright.

“Well,” Leia snorted, “I need to steal your wife-to-be.”

“It’s not going to take three hours for you to get ready,” Cassian said skeptically.

“I heard it takes _you_ close to three hours just to decide what to wear every morning,” Leia shot back.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jyn muttered, maneuvering herself out of his grasp.

Kes, predictably, chose that moment to burst through the door without a word of warning, trailing two large garment bags over his shoulder.

“How’re your balls doing?” he shouted.

Cassian made a high, strangled noise.

“Oh,” Kes said, “Hi Leia.”

“I _really_ don’t want to know,” Leia muttered, taking Jyn by the wrist and dragging her out. She called over her shoulder, “See you there at five. Don’t be late!”

The door slammed shut behind her.

Kes turned to Cassian, grinning.

“So,” he said.

Cassian shifted, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his loose trousers.

“I don’t need three hours to get ready,” he said.

Kes clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder.

“Bantha shavit,” he said brightly, “But I am a patient man, and I’m willing to endure it for the sake of our very long, and long-suffering friendship.”

Cassian sighed, reaching for the garment bag and hanging it from a lampstand in the family room.

“Gird your loins,” Kes said.

“You’ve _seen_ it?” Cassian yelped, turning to him, hand on the zipper.

“Of course I’ve seen it,” Kes replied, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms, “Who do you think forced her to sit down and actually _design_ something instead of sneak a jacket out of your closet?”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Cassian said, suddenly nervous.

“Hey, it’s one of _your_ traditions,” Kes snorted, “This whole pick-each-other’s clothes thing.”

“Yeah, but…” Cassian trailed off.

Kes laughed.

“You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Cassian shot him a look.

“Leia might have helped too,” Kes added, “If that makes you feel any better.”

“It does, actually.”

“Well, _thanks_.”

Bracing himself, Cassian yanked down the zipper of the garment bag in one fluid motion.

And stepped back suddenly, jabbing his heel against the couch.

“Ah,” he said.

Kes watched him carefully.

“Leia did a lot of research, actually,” he said, “She said Bail had been kind of a secret Scarif expert.”

“Oh fark,” Cassian said, and Kes was alarmed to hear tears in his voice.

“Cass?” he asked uncertainly.

Cassian turned to him, inhaling sharply.

“How did you know?” he rasped.

“What?”

“This--” Cassian gestured at the revealed suit, “--This is _exactly_ what my step-father wore when he married my mother.”

“Oh fark,” Kes said, standing, eyes wide, “Oh, _fark_. That was _them?_ ”

“What?” Cassian said hoarsely.

Kes fumbled his datapad out of his pocket, tapping furiously.

“Leia found this holopic in Bail’s notes. She said it looked like the sort of wedding you’d described, and Jyn thought it would suit you, so we just decided to go with it.”

He found the holopic and offered his datapad to Cassian, who took it with cold fingers.

He swallowed, dark eyes tracing the two figures in the grainy holopic--the man, tall and fair-haired in a suit of creamy gold, loose and flowing across the chest, tapered through the leg and cuffed neatly at the ankle; the woman--dark, curling hair flowing in the wind, simple dress of deep, rich blue gathering at the waist and falling gently to the white sand. They clung to each other, grinning broadly. Between them stood a small boy smiling up at his mother.

“I did the same for Jyn,” he said quietly, “From memory, almost.”

“I think she and Leia are probably having a similar conversation right now,” Kes said wryly.

“Yeah,” Cassian breathed, eyes wide, “I didn’t know this holopic existed.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Kes said, “Here.”

He took his datapad back and tapped a few commands.

Cassian stepped forward, reaching out and touching the suit with a tentative hand.

“I haven’t tied a cravat in years,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Kes replied drily, tucking his datapad away.

Cassian reached into the garment bag and pulled everything out, letting the bag drop to the floor.

“If all you’re going to do is stare,” Kes said flatly, “Then I probably should have come over earlier.”

Cassian blinked rapidly.

“Yeah,” he said, “I'll, uh. Go shower. And stuff.”

“Don’t drown,” Kes replied, flopping backwards onto the couch, “If you’re not out in half an hour, I’m coming in to rescue you from the clutches of middle-aged vanity.”

“Fark you,” Cassian said, taking the suit with him and stalking off down the hall.

Kes laughed.

* * *

 

“He can’t possibly have known,” Leia said, staring at the dress, “There’s no way.”

“It was his mother’s,” Jyn said, turning to her, “He said he made me his mother’s wedding dress.”

Leia’s mouth opened wordlessly.

“It was them,” she said finally, “I can’t believe it.”

Jyn turned back to the dress, deep and dark like the sea.

“I think,” Leia said, pained, “I can hear my father laughing.”

* * *

 

Kes very patiently waited a full thirty-five minutes before rolling off the couch and pointedly knocking on Cassian’s bedroom door.

“Cass?” he shouted when he received no reply, “You have five seconds to get decent before I come in.”

He waited for ten, then opened the door.

Unsurprisingly, the room was empty, and the ‘fresher door was closed. From beyond came the sound of running water.

“Great,” Kes muttered. He pounded a fist against the ‘fresher door. “Cass!” he shouted, “You alive in there?”

“Fark off!” Cassian snarled.

“I’m giving you ten more minutes!” Kes shouted, “You’re wasting our water!”

“It’s not like _you_ shower regularly!”

Kes leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes.

“Ten minutes!” he shouted.

* * *

 

Jyn vigorously toweled at her hair.

Leia stood behind her, a short, gleaming rod in her hand.

“What,” Jyn said, whirling around, “Is that.”

“It’s a flat iron,” Leia said, smiling, “I’m straightening your hair.”

“My hair _is_ straight.”

Leia cocked her head.

“It is, actually,” she admitted, “But it could lie a little neater.”

Jyn scrubbed at her ends. Leia winced.

“Listen,” Leia said, “I know this is ridiculous, but just trust me, okay?”

“That thing’s going to burn my hair off.”

“No,” Leia sighed, “It’s not.”

“You called it an iron. Don’t you iron _clothes?_ ”

“Jyn,” Leia said.

Jyn scowled into the mirror and slammed her towel down onto the counter.

“ _Fine_ ,” she snapped.

* * *

 

Cassian pushed the ‘fresher door open.

“Augh!” Kes shouted, jerking away instinctively, “I don’t need to see be seeing this!”

“I have a towel on,” Cassian said drily, shuffling carefully across the room, “And it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Kes peered cautiously between his fingers. Cassian reached into his dresser and rummaged around for his underthings.

“You have two hours and fifteen minutes of bachelorhood left,” Kes reported.

Cassian grunted and shuffled back to the ‘fresher, slamming the door shut behind him.

Kes flopped back onto the bed.

* * *

 

“Jyn,” Leia said, “Relax. I’m not going to set anything on fire.”

“It feels weird,” Jyn said stiffly, neck locked in place, “It kind of tickles.”

“That’s a weird way to put it.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

Cassian shoved the ‘fresher door open again, and Kes was hit by another wave of hot, moist air.

He sat up and saw Cassian standing at the sink in his pants, carefully drawing his razor up his lathered face.

“So,” he said, leaning back on his elbows, “How do you feel?”

Cassian tapped the blade on the edge of the sink, shooting Kes a look in the mirror.

“Trying to give me second thoughts?” he said wryly.

“Just looking out for you,” Kes said cheerfully, “It’s my job, you know. As best man.”

“Shouldn’t _you_ be getting ready too?” Cassian said pointedly.

Kes flapped a hand.

“Please,” he said, “I don’t need even half as long as you do.”

Cassian sighed.

“Your speech ready?” he asked.

“Of course,” Kes replied smugly, “I’ve had it written for years.”

Cassian flinched, lifting his razor away just in time.

“What?” he snapped.

“I knew this was going to happen eventually,” Kes said, grinning, “And I wanted to rub it in your face when your idiotic romanticism finally overcame your romantic idiocy.”

Cassian turned to look at him, brow furrowed.

“Please tell me your speech doesn’t have stuff like that in it.”

“What?” Kes protested, affronted.

“‘Romantic idiocy,’” Cassian repeated, turning back to the mirror, shuddering.

“Hey, _you_ asked _me_ to be your best man.”

“I think you’d have been my best man whether I asked you or not,” Cassian snorted.

“Yeah,” Kes admitted, “Probably.” He shrugged. “Either way, my speech will be much better than your speech.”

“Don’t start,” Cassian sighed.

“Your speech lasted, what?” Kes continued, regardless, “Five minutes?” He laughed, “Well, you’re really in for something new, then.”

Cassian muttered uncharitably under his breath.

“What was that?” Kes asked innocently.

Cassian glared at him.

“I said I was still in Intelligence when you and Shara got married in front of the whole farking base,” he said, “I couldn’t really make it a big deal.”

“Excuses,” Kes replied, shaking his head.

“Fark off,” Cassian said, lifting his chin.

* * *

 

A knock came from the bedroom door, and Poe stuck his head in.

“I’m heading up now,” he said, smirking, “You need anything else?”

Jyn and Leia glanced at each other.

“No,” Leia said, “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Poe grinned.

“Hey,” Leia said quickly, “Come here. Let us take a look at you.”

Poe blushed faintly, but stepped into the room, dressed in the suit Cassian had help him pick out at the prop’ tailor.

 _No military dress_ , Cassian had demanded months ago when the planning had first started, _We’ve had enough of war._

Poe smoothed his tie down self-consciously, hand running nervously through his hair in a gesture painfully reminiscent of his uncle. Leia whistled, low and teasing, as he stood awkwardly by the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his tapered grey trousers, creases military-sharp.

“Nice shirt,” Jyn said, smiling at him with her eyes.

“Thanks,” Poe said, blushing harder.

“Yeah, the pink goes well with all the--” Leia waved her flatiron around. Jyn ducked. “--grey.”

“Hey,” Poe said, grinning crookedly, somewhat recovered, “It’s the texture that matters.”

“You’re wearing a tweed suit to a beach wedding,” Leia said drily, “Yes, definitely.”

Poe made a face.

“It looks good on you,” Jyn said.

“Yeah,” Leia asked casually, “You look like _you’re_ the one getting married. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Poe froze.

Leia laughed.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said, setting the flat iron down on the counter with a smile, “I’ve known you since you were in diapers. Give me some credit.” She paused. " _Is_ there a lucky guy?"

Poe swallowed nervously, looking down at Jyn, who raised a reassuring eyebrow.

“Uh. Yeah,” he said, “At the Academy.”

“Is he going to be here today?”

Poe shook his head.

“I got special dispensation only because Uncle Cass’s family. He had to stay.”

“Pity,” Leia said, “I’d like to meet him sometime.”

“Uh,” Poe stammered, “Sure. I guess. I mean, Pap hasn’t met him yet either, so it might--”

“--Relax,” Leia laughed, “I didn’t mean right away.”

“Okay,” Poe said. He cleared his throat.

 _So much like his uncle,_ Leia thought.

“I should probably get going,” he said, “Keep Han from shooting Kaytoo or something.”

“Yes,” Leia replied, “Please.”

“Okay,” Poe said, backing out, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be safe!” Jyn called after him.

Leia waited until the back door slammed shut before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, his face!” she gasped, “He was _terrified_.”

“Youre one of his heroes, you know,” Jyn said.

Leia picked the straightener up again.

“No,” she replied, “I’m just one of his mothers.”

* * *

 

Cassian carefully smoothed down his moustache, peering critically into the mirror.

“You look _fine_ ,” Kes moaned, “Now hurry up and put some clothes on. All those ribs are making me uncomfortable.”

Cassian frowned and pulled his undershirt over his head.

“No one’s making you to look,” he muttered, straightening the shirt across his shoulders.

He strode back out into the room and carefully pulled the cream-colored shirt from its hanger, threading his arms into the sleeves and leaving the buttons undone.

Kes eyed him.

“So why was this a Scarif thing?” he asked, “This whole picking each other’s clothes and stuff. It’s kind of weird.”

“ _That_ ," Cassian replied, striding back to the ‘fresher and setting to work on his hair, "was insulting,”

“I know.”

“It’s symbolic,” Cassian answered after a period of silence, “Each half gives the other something in them that's important to wear on the outside, so together, they are--” he gestured with his comb, “Each other. One.”

“Oh,” Kes said.

* * *

 

Jyn stared at herself in the mirror.

“Oh fark,” she said.

“Yeah,” Leia replied, “I think so too.”

Jyn turned and touched the small clip at the back of her head, long, dark hair spilling out underneath in thick waves.

“I’m glad it’s not straight,” she said.

“Yeah,” Leia admitted, “Good call.”

Jyn took a step forward, the dress moving with her, flowing around her legs, tickling the tops of her feet.

“It feels weird to be barefoot,” she said.

“You’re getting married on a beach,” Leia replied, flicking off her curling iron, “I don’t think you’d want to be wearing heels.”

Jyn made a face.

“I guess,” she said.

“So,” Leia said, “You ready? I guarantee you Cassian’s not done yet.”

“Yeah,” Jyn replied, smirking, “I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even got his trousers on.”

* * *

 

“Cass, why do you always have to wait until the last farking moment to put on your trousers?” Kes groaned, straightening his tie in the ‘fresher mirror.

Cassian hopped across the room on one leg, jamming his other into its appropriate opening and yanking his trousers up to his waist.

“It keeps the creases sharp,” Cassian replied, carefully tucking in his shirt before fastening the suspenders and tugging them up over his shoulders.

Kes checked his wrist-chrono.

“If we don’t leave right now, you’re going to be late to your own farking wedding,” Kes said.

“It’s fine. I’ll fly,” Cassian grunted, slipping into his vest and doing up the golden-brown buttons with trembling hands, "It's fine." He tugged on his suit jacket and nudged Kes aside so he could look in the mirror and straighten his cravat, which was a deep, rich blue that matched the dress in his memory. “We’ll be fine.”

“Even if you do fly, we’re going to be late,” Kes said.

“Ah, fark,” Cassian muttered, smoothing back his hair one last time, “ _Fark_.” He inhaled sharply. “Okay. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

The sun was just starting to set as Cassian yanked the speeder to a stop just beyond the treeline that edged the sandy beaches of Lake Vidre.

“Everyone’s here already,” he said, staring at the small crowd.

“Yeah,” Kes snorted, hauling him out of the speeder, “You’re _late_. They’re all waiting for you.”

* * *

 

They said their vows, whatever that meant.

Anything important that had to be said had been said already, many times, long ago, in a shared past.

She stood before him, cloaked in his memory, displaying it proudly, as fierce and proud as the sea itself. He wore her future, bore the weight of it, the hope. In that small ceremony on a different beach before their closest circle of friends, closer still for the ones who were gone, they declared the truth.

When the applause had died, and his wife clutched him in her arms, he allowed himself to cry.

* * *

 

“Congratulations,” Sinjir Rath Velus said, smacking Cassian in the shoulder, “It’s about time.”

“Yeah,” Jyn snorted, eyes glittering in the firelight, “Tell me about it.”

“My hopes--” Sinjir said, quite inebriated, “ _\--dashed_.”

Conder cleared his throat loudly, shoving a drink into his husband’s hand.

“What was that, honey?” he said sweetly.

“He was just telling us about that time we slept with each other on Ord Mantell,” Cassian replied blandly, eyebrows raised, “Weren’t you?”

Sinjir swore good-naturedly, tossing back half of his glass in one go. Jyn tightened her hand around Cassian’s. He smiled down at her.

“I was really hoping to get into your pants that night,” Sinjir admitted roguishly.

“And I’m only just hearing about this now?” Conder said mildly.

Jyn sighed.

“That’s--”

She broke off, cocking her head, and turned to Cassian.

“Do you hear that?” she frowned. Cassian’s eyes narrowed.

The distant rumble turned into a roar, and a dull glow lit up the sky above the forest.

“The _fark?_ ” Conder snapped. Suddenly sober, Sinjir dropped his drink, unbuttoning his jacket and flipping it back to clear access to his blaster.

“It’s a ‘ship!” Poe shouted, “It’s _crashing!_ ”

Cassian grabbed Jyn around the waist and pushed her to the ground, snatching his holdout blaster from his belt and crouching over her as the flaming ‘ship--no larger than a fighter--streaked overhead, narrowly clearing the canopy, crashing and skidding along the sand with concussive force.

In the ensuing silence, a familiar prickling feeling grew in the back of his neck. Cassian swallowed.

“Is everyone alright?” he shouted over the dull, distant crackling of flames.

A chorus of affirmatives. He heard Leia irritated hiss and Han’s apologetic reply.

He stood.

“Stay here,” he demanded when Jyn grabbed his hand.

“Fark you,” Jyn snarled, bending and pulling a vibroblade from an ankle holster.

Together, they advanced across the cool sand towards the downed ship, the stars dulled by the flames before them. Sinjir and Kes followed, blasters raised.

It was an A-wing, Cassian realized, and an old one at that, from the Clone Wars. They fanned out around the cockpit, which, hidden in shadow, obscured the pilot from view.

Cassian stepped forward, blaster steady in both hands.

The canopy opened with a hiss, spewing smoke.

Someone coughed.

The prickling feeling returned.

Cassian lowered his blaster and stepped closer, drawn, somehow, to this flaming wreck.

“Cassian,” Jyn said behind him, warningly.

Two hands reached out of the darkness, long and slender, gripping the sides of the cockpit. The pilot stood unsteadily, backlit by the flames.

“Oh,” he said, voice young, relieved, “Thank the Force.”

“Who are you?” Kes demanded.

The man cocked his head, as if listening intently.

“Kes,” the pilot said, a smile in his voice, “It’s good to see you again.” He paused, then added, “Sort of.”

Jyn reached out compulsively and gripped Cassian’s wrist.

“Who are you?” Cassian repeated hoarsely, though he already knew the answer.

The pilot bent and slid to the ground with unnatural grace. Light from the flames flickered across his sightless eyes.

“Hi Dad,” Prestor Organa said, twenty-one years old and fourteen years missing, “I’m back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
> 
> This chapter's (fairly significant, in terms of the series) notes [here](https://ibohe.tumblr.com/post/159322594471/another-look-epilogue).
> 
> That being said, thanks, all, for your support for this story! It really warms me.  
> Cheers!


End file.
